


Ashes in my mouth

by laveIIans



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Memories, Other, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 02:13:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16076201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laveIIans/pseuds/laveIIans
Summary: Alexius mourns his family and tries to remember the happier times with his son and wife, along with being tortured by self-loathing and his thoughts in the present.





	Ashes in my mouth

The cell was cold and dark, but it was no less than he deserved. He could hear water dripping faintly somewhere in the background, along with the sounds of the other prisoners talking amongst themselves from their cells from time to time, and occasionally rats scurried about in squeaks and flurries of energy from one hole into another. They left him well enough alone though; perhaps they could smell the stink of his actions clinging to him and felt fear. Other than that, it was as silent as the grave, and far less pleasant.

Sitting alone by himself for hours at a time, with no one to see him save the jailer who brought him food and cleaned the waste from his cell. The Inquisitor was far too important to visit a shadow like himself, and he had nobody else who would be willing to. Dorian gave him a wide berth; Alexius had seen him out of the corner of his eye when he was led to the Inquisitor in chains, but the other mage had just looked so  _disappointed_ that it stung. He had not thought it would have hurt so much, but when his former pupil looked at him with such disgust, everything came rushing to him like a slap to the face. The weight of his actions, the price he had paid, and  _still_ he had failed. 

 _My son will die. I could not save him._ It had only really sunken in now, with space to reflect. He could do nothing  _but_ reflect here, and his thoughts had taken him back to the worst days of his life. 

He would be unable to forget, no matter how much he might have wanted to. When they had brought Livia's body to him, it hadn't felt real. She wasn't this bled-out husk of a woman, cruelly desecrated by the darkspawn. His wife, the love of his life, had been a woman quick to smile and laugh in his presence, and she had brought him peace and joy that he had never thought possible; she had always teased him, never taking him too seriously, and had always offered her own advice when he failed to see obvious solutions right under his nose before teasing him once more. Their days had been happy together indeed, and then they had had another blessing. 

Felix had been so small when he held him for the first time, so small that Alexius had feared he might hurt him. Livia showed him the right way to hold their baby son -  _their son!_ \- and he had cradled him gently, his face crinkling into an effortless smile. He had teased his wife over who their child might resemble more, and when Livia had hoped he would have her looks _and_ brain, he had only laughed. 

Livia had looked so beautiful on their wedding day, dressed in her silks and finery and wearing cascading garlands of fragrant flowers around her neck. Had he not already loved her, then her wide grin would have melted even the stoniest of hearts. He had temporarily lost the power of speech when he sat next to her at the head of the banquet table before all their guests, now as her husband, and she had joked that perhaps he was under a spell from a vengeful former lover.

"No," he said, shaking his head firmly. "There is only you. There was only ever you." Livia had kissed him until he was breathless, beaming at him, and he had felt like the luckiest man in all of Thedas.

And now she was gone. He would never hear the lilt in her voice as she playfully summoned him, toying with the syllables in his name. He would never hold her close to him, feeling her heart beating faster and faster. He would never go from debating her over thaumaturgy and other magical matters to simple discussions about Felix and household matters, or even shyly whispered words of affection that she could coax out of him without even trying when he saw her standing in the sunlight, distracted by something in the distance. 

He would never see her again.

 _I have failed you, amatus_. He hadn't been there to save her life, and now he couldn't even stop Felix's impending death. For as long as he still lived, he would have to watch his son waste away, with every herbal tincture becoming less effective than before, until Felix was more bones than flesh. His son would wither away into a painful death long before Alexius ever reached his own, and he would be powerless to do anything but  _watch_.

It was a cruel fate from a cruel Maker, but then he had lost his faith the day they had brought him the news. What god would kill such a woman as Livia, who had caused no harm to anybody her whole life, and who had given many mages the gift of her knowledge in the Circle? And what god would bring such a cursed fate to his only child?

All Felix had wanted was to make him proud, Alexius realised. When his magic had been too weak to coax and develop, he had honed his mind instead, devoting himself to his studies of mathematics. He had even been accepted into the University of Orlais, to be among the best of the best. When he thought of Felix, he remembered the countless Soporati he had championed, demanding their rights to continue studying the same way any Altus mage would have been expected to. Had it been his son he was thinking of when he stood before the Magisterium and made his address, begging them to consider ending their funding for this endless war against the Qunari, and diverting it into better education for all the young of Tevinter?

He wished now that his son had never passed the exams. Had Felix failed, he would never have gone to Orlais, and Livia would have never accompanied him. Alexius had been on the verge of a breakthrough with Dorian, and his wife had gone in his place. They would never have been attacked by darkspawn, and he would never have fallen from grace so spectacularly.

 _All I did, I did for you._ For Livia's shade, and Felix's recovery. But what had it brought him? Only pain and failure. Now the Inquisitor had roused the south to fight Corypheus, the very man who had promised to heal his son. Had that been another lie he had willingly swallowed, another layer of delusion he had burrowed into, convincing himself that what he was doing was not only right, but  _noble_? 

Most likely, they would even succeed. He had seen how gifted a fighter they were, as well as a leader and strategist. They could bring people from all walks of life together, united under the banner of the Inquisition, even if it was only for as long as this fight lasted. It had been no simple coincidence, no accident of fate, that they had survived where so many had perished.

He found himself admiring their strength.  _They have everything to stand for, and everything to lose. Yet somehow they continue to fight._ He had surrendered almost instantly, and now he wondered if it had been cowardice that stayed his hand, or acknowledging he faced something greater than himself, a foe he could never vanquish.

That was the case with Felix's Blight sickness, and his quest to stop his son from dying had driven him to nearly destroy the world.  _But I would gladly slay them all with my bare hands if it would heal him. If it would bring her back to me._

No wonder Dorian had looked at him with such venom. He had fallen so fast that he had never realised how far he had gone, so blinded had he been by desperation and grief. 

 _Corypheus preyed on it_ , Alexius realised with a shudder of guilt.  _He would have thrown me aside like a doll when he was done with me_. Why had it taken him so long to realise that?

Or perhaps he had always known.

Knowing was easy, but admitting it was the hardest part. It was so much easier to simply  _deny_ it all, to weave webs of comforting lies around himself until he no longer knew north from south. Those webs had smothered him, and he had scarcely noticed. He was powerless, rendered less than the shadow of a worm. 

And now he did what he now acknowledged he was best at; Alexius hid himself inside his thoughts, losing himself to memories.

The day Livia had announced her pregnancy. Felix's birth, his only child. Felix's first shaky steps, as he wobbled his way from Livia towards him. Felix's first word. The day Felix's magic had manifested with such hope for his future, far earlier than any had thought possible, and then cruelly twisted when they realised it would go no further than flimsy sparks and wisps.

The scent of autumn winds, carrying her perfume to him from beyond the grave. Livia had loved her flowers; the smell of them had clung to her like a lover's kiss.  

And now all the joy of his memories had turned to ashes in his mouth, now he reconciled himself with the truth. Livia was dead, and the taint in Felix's blood grew stronger with each passing day. Soon, he would join her, and then Alexius would be left to walk this world alone, left only with disgrace and guilt for company.

The only smell that clung to him now was that of pure despair. 

The darkspawn had stolen his only joy from him, and now even Corypheus had tainted his remaining feeble hopes. There was  _nothing_ left for him; only the desire to die, a fate the Inquisitor had spared him from. Had it been mercy that stayed their hand, or cruelty? Or simple pragmatism, a desire to bleed his knowledge from him until even that was gone? Would they discard him, too, the same way his master would have?

Alexius begged for that day, the day they would laugh and drive a blade deep into his heart. He could scarcely feel it beating anymore; it only kept him alive now, but he no longer  _lived_. Now it was only a matter of counting the days, praying to a Maker he no longer believed in to deliver him from life.

But that would never happen. So long as he lived, he would carry his shadows with him. He would have to learn to live with them, no matter how sharp their claws as they tore him apart. Perhaps he would even find some measure of atonement, though he doubted it. If even _Alexius_ saw no hope for his future, how could anyone else?

 _It is no less than I deserve_.

Alexius was counting the cracks in the walls for the hundredth time when he heard the jail door clink open as someone unlocked it. It was too early for his meal, and he rose to his feet in surprise. _A visitor_? He should have quashed the thin ray of hope that rose up inside him, but he felt it all the same. It had been so unbearably lonely.

To his surprise, the Inquisitor stood before him, looking him dead in the eyes. Alexius smiled, offering them a low, mocking bow. If his captor had come to torment him, it would bring him no pain.  _It is no less than I deserve_.

"A visitor at last," he called out with a weary sigh. His voice sounded odd in his ears now, after so many days of silence. "There's little to see here, Inquisitor." He made a sweeping gesture with his hands, adding, "I should know." He could not tell if his words were for the jail cell or himself. 


End file.
